


The Meeting in the Artois Woods

by itsaroosterteeththing



Category: Shingeki no Kyojin | Attack on Titan
Genre: World War 1, and shocking, it's very good, oh gosh, poem based
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-05-04
Updated: 2014-05-04
Packaged: 2018-01-21 22:09:22
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,241
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1565771
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/itsaroosterteeththing/pseuds/itsaroosterteeththing
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When Eren finds himself drawn to a strangers cry for help, he is met with a Frenchman who makes him question everything about the war.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Meeting in the Artois Woods

**Author's Note:**

> This is extremely unedited so any flaws, please point them out and I'll fix them later! I love you all!

A single cry alerted Eren from his comrades, the high pitched call for help was almost impossible to avoid, at least for Eren. Without further thought the man rushed into the thickets of the woods of Artois. Eren ran with reckless abandon, his uniform becoming snagged on multiple branches and thorns that stuck out and entered Eren’s path. The sound came again, sharp, it was to Eren’s left. The man dodged past the trunk of a tree and hopped over the stump of another.

The further he delved into the woods, the more he noticed the signs of an earlier battle. The lingering smell of gunfire and empty shells left on the ground, becoming crushed beneath Eren’s heavy footfalls. Eren noticed the blood too, it drenched the entire forest floor. It had begun to soak into the ground and leave a gruesome reminder of the previous atrocities and horrors inflicted upon _people_ here. Eren heard another broken cry and realised that it was much closer than he’d anticipated; he slowed from his run now and searched the ground carefully.

His gaze fell upon a fellow soldier. The German laid wounded and in great need of care for his wounds were very close to being fatal, or so it seemed to Eren on first glance. He stepped up to the wounded soldier and assessed his wounds carefully. Blood soaked his uniform, originating from the blackened hole in his gut. He had been shot, but Eren noticed other bullet wounds peppering the very edge of his legs and arms. He had come away better than he ever should, with only one direct hit and the others mere grazes that would heal over. It wasn’t till a few moments later that Eren realised he had a visitor, and when his teal gaze flicked up to meet that of an enemy French soldier, he grasped for his weapons and stumbled a few feet back. His gaze is mistrustful at best and down-right murderous at worst. Eren keeps his gun aimed at the Frenchman.

“What do you do here.” Eren yelled out, wary of the man dying between them, his gaze flicked between his enemy and his comrade.

“I heard him call for help” The voice returned, calm and maybe even a little bored. Eren’s eyes widened as he took in the darkness in the Frenchman’s eyes, the silver they should have been were much brighter and shone like steel in the darkened wood. Eren gulped and again his gaze flitted between the wounded and the enemy. His enemy stood still, standing side on from Eren with his gun pressed against his shoulder, aimed at the German. His slick black hair fell in curtains from a parting and was cut into a military style undercut. Eren took a step closer to the wounded soldier on the ground.

“He’s your enemy.” Eren tries, his hands shook and he wasn’t sure what to make of the man who looked so calm and collected, Eren guessed it was merely controlled chaos, though. He had come in aid of a wounded man, not in the hopes of killing a wounded enemy.

“He is a man who suffers.” The voice again, deep and low – surprisingly so for a man so...vertically challenged.

Eren stared wordlessly at the soldier and lowered his weapon at the same time as the Frenchman did. Eren stepped closer again, both men now towering above the wordless wounded. Their gazes never left one another as they each entwined their fingers together and lowered themselves, the silence palpable and odd in a war zone. They lift the wounded soldier, as if on a stretcher, and make their way back to the German outposts. Both men continued to stare and evaluate the other. Here they were men, nothing more, there was no war between them – merely a man helping another man. Their countries were at war and they were caught in it, they had been caught in the hatred and forgot to rationalise the situation. No man was defined by his countries actions.

The pair seemed to mull over precisely the same predicament as they carried the soldier, who groaned and moaned his way back. They reached the outposts and the pair rested the wounded soldier on the ground, in moments he was being rushed into a tent, his wounds being scrutinised and evaluated. Eren had no doubts that the man would be back out at the Front in a mere two weeks.

“He will get good care here.” And with those words the Frenchman turned on his heel wordlessly and made back into the woods. Eren couldn’t let this moment pass fleetingly and ran to catch up with who had been only twenty minutes ago his natural born enemy. Eren grabs for the Frenchman’s hand and watches as the man turns, again, on his heel to glare at the young German. But a boy, caught up in a game he was not meant to play. Eren’s gaze had been sorrow-dimmed by the war, by the culmination of horrors and evils he’s seen in the two years fought in the war. Eren tried, with earnest foreboding to reach out to the Frenchman.

“I don’t know what is to become of us, which is undeniably already set in stone. Perhaps I will fall, a victim of your bullet. Maybe mine will fell you on the sand – for indifferent is the chance of battles.” Eren had no idea what he was saying, but it felt correct, his words felt right. Their destinies had already been written, and if he was to fall victim to this man, or if he was to fall victim to Eren, then that is what was meant for them. Eren believed full heartedly that if there was, indeed, a God that he did not take sides. Those who died, died because they were meant to, not because of who they fought for, because in the end – they fought for what they believed in.

“Yet,” Eren began again, his voice rising in his hopes of reaching out to the Frenchman, who had watched the German who still had a tight grip on his hand. “However it may be and whatever may come: We lived these sacred hours, where man found himself in man” Eren let go of the Frenchman’s hand now and saluted him, his salute strong and bold and loyal.

“And now, farewell! And God be with you!" Eren turned on his heel and marched off back to his outpost, with thoughts of the Frenchman and the wounded soldier sure to be filling every thought. He was stopped, however, by that same gruff and low voice.

“What’s your name, kid, where are you from?” Eren paused his steps and turned back, the distance between them stood in contrast to their mental closeness.

“Eren Jaegar, sir. Stuttgart, Germany” He announced, as if being quizzed by a drill sergeant. He allowed a breath taking smile. “And you?”

“Levi Ackerman, kid. Lunéville, France.” The Frenchman paused. “Look for me after this is over. I shall do the same.” Again, another pause drifted thoughtlessly between them. “Don’t die, brat, that is your only order from me.” Eren nodded firmly and turned, again, on his heel and left the Frenchman standing there. This time Eren returned to the outpost with no further interruption, but thoughts of a man named Levi continued to fill his mind every day for the next two years.

**Author's Note:**

> VERY IMPORTANT.  
> Fic based on a very thought provoking poem, written by an unlikely source. Here is the poem.
> 
> It was in the thicket of the Artois Wood.  
> Deep in the trees, on blood-soaked ground,  
> Lay stretched a wounded German warrior,  
> And his cries rang out in the night.  
> In vain ... no echo answered his plea ...  
> Will he bleed to death like a beast,  
> That shot in the gut dies alone?  
> Then suddenly ...  
> Heavy steps approach from the right  
> He hears how they stamp on the forest floor ...  
> And new hope springs from his soul.  
> And now from the left ...  
> And now from both sides ... 
> 
> Two men approach his miserable bed  
> A German it is, and a Frenchman.  
> And each watches the other with distrustful glance,  
> And threatening they aim their weapons.  
> The German warrior asks:  
> "What do you do here?"  
> "I was touched by the needy one's call for help." 
> 
> "It's your enemy!"  
> "It is a man who suffers." 
> 
> And both, wordless, lowered their weapons.  
> Then entwined their hands  
> And, with muscles tensed, carefully lifted  
> The wounded warrior, as if on a stretcher,  
> And carried him through the woods.  
> 'Til they came to the German outposts.  
> "Now it is over. He will get good care."  
> And the Frenchman turns back toward the woods.  
> But the German grasps for his hand,  
> Looks, moved, into sorrow-dimmed eyes  
> And says to him with earnest foreboding: 
> 
> "I know not what fate holds for us,  
> Which inscrutably rules in the stars.  
> Perhaps I shall fall, a victim of your bullet.  
> Maybe mine will fell you on the sand —  
> For indifferent is the chance of battles.  
> Yet, however it may be and whatever may come:  
> We lived these sacred hours,  
> Where man found himself in man ...  
> And now, farewell! And God be with you!" 
> 
>  
> 
> \- Written by Adolf Hitler 1916


End file.
